


King of Thorns

by MercurySkies



Series: Kingdom Come [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing gives him away. Then again he doesn't tell anyone, won’t worry them, refuses to be weak. The weight of a kingdom sits just as heavily on his shoulders as it does Arthur’s. Arthur has never understood. The secret is out but being magic itself takes it’s toll and years of learning, growing has done nothing to quiet the storm inside of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first foray into writing fic for the Merlin fandom seeing as I'm considerably late to the game here but by god have I lost my heart to Merthur.

Nothing gives him away. Then again he doesn’t tell anyone, won’t worry them, refuses to be weak. The weight of a kingdom sits just as heavily on his shoulders as it does Arthur’s. Arthur has never understood. The secret is out but being magic itself takes it’s toll and years of learning, growing has done nothing to quiet the storm inside of him.

 

There’s an ache building, scratching at his insides until every nerve is raw and every touch feels like it leaves a bruise. As Court Sorcerer he stands steadfastly by Arthur’s side watching him shine, still feeling as if he never should himself. Arthur hasn't taken a queen and Merlin doesn't understand why but doesn't linger, doesn't dare. He’s too much. Too much power, too much love that even he suffocates underneath it.

 

It all starts to fall apart when the table starts to shake. An advisor who’s name Merlin can’t even bring himself to speak for how vile he is is chattering on about ungrateful outlying villagers and unruly sorcerers, spells going awry. They’re gathered around the round table as usual for the council meetings but anger swells inside him and magic tears at him. The advisor keeps sending him pointed looks, as if suggesting Merlin is not doing his job, that he’s failing them and the implication cuts him like a knife. He can distantly hear Arthur’s increasingly agitated voice, trying to defend him but it doesn't placate him. The table trembles, at first barely noticeable, but then it shakes, violently, crashing against the stone of the floor, shattering slabs of it and sending dust and debris through the air. The room floods with wind, wild and screaming and Merlin stands, stock still, golden eyes blazing like fire as he stares unblinkingly at the advisor.

 

Arthur is shouting, angry but he can’t hear him. For once he wants to stop listening, stop obeying a king and start loving one. All he does is leave, sweeping out of the room before anyone can stop him, if they would even dare to. The gold doesn't fade from his irises and torches explode into all consuming flame as he passes until he makes it to his chambers, contained.

 

* * *

 

Arthur enters his chambers cautiously thirty minutes later and gasps. Everything in the room is destroyed. The bed reduced to cinders, ornaments and trinkets ground into dust. Merlin sits in the alcove by what used to be a window, Ygraine’s sigil rotating slowly in the air in front of him.

“Merlin wha-” Arthur starts at a loss. Merlin just shrugs.

“Look if you’re going to throw a tantrum like a child over something so-” There’s a brief flash of hurt and anger that makes Arthur’s mouth click shut. Before he can apologise, the sigil clatters to the ground and Merlin pitches himself out of the window. Arthur rushes to the alcove, a strangled shout leaving him as a falcon takes flight from Camelot and Merlin is no where to be seen in the courtyard below

 

* * *

 

Arthur gives it two days before leaving in search of Merlin with Percival and Gwaine at his side. Two days of hell so far as Arthur was concerned. He was almost mad with worry but threw himself into repairing the damage Merlin caused as well as making arrangements for his return. He’s waited because Merlin was not one to be pushed, as stubborn as his king and he clearly wanted to be alone. But Arthur misses him not that he would admit it readily and he’s worried. They make an attempt at tracking him but considering Merlin had taken off in animal form it was difficult to say the least. The only thing that seems to signify Merlin had passed through was the warmth at the base of Arthur’s spine and the way the hairs on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end.

 

He’s just about to step out into a clearing when a voice he barely recognises booms warningly. “Do not step any closer.” Merlin stands shirtless and almost glowing in the middle of the clearing, fire sparking and extinguishing in his palms over and over again, its light reflecting in the gold of his eyes. Arthur suspects it hasn't dimmed since Arthur last laid eyes on him.

“God Merlin we've-”

Merlin hushes him not even giving him a cursory glance. With a flick of his wrist nettles and thorns pile in a ring around him, glistening and sharp.

“Don’t shush me Merlin what do you think-”

“Quiet.” Merlin mutters, palms held upward as his eyes go out of focus.

“Really-”

“You will be quiet.” Merlin says voice steady and low, almost like a growl and it’s then that Arthur notices the roses coiling around the hilt of their swords and casting them aside.

 

Ruby red roses are blooming everywhere, bright and beautiful and dangerous and Arthur is in awe. “This is a special place. Do not disrespect it” Merlin’s tone leaves no room for argument and Arthur doesn't try to find any. Something tells him that it’s not only the supposedly sacred space that should not be disrespected but Merlin himself, and the magic. This is Merlin’s kingdom.

 

He watches as roses continue to bloom and Merlin resumes playing with conjured fire. The more he watched the more Arthur notices. He notices the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes and the tremble that runs through him. He notices the heavy scruff gracing Merlin’s jaw, tousled hair, and wild golden eyes. He’s wearing his own crown of roses and thorn, their red stark against his dark hair and pale skin. He exudes power, lives it, is breathing it into the air, into the earth, into everything around him, and everyone. He is beautiful and Arthur steps forward.

 

He hits a wall however, a barrier of energy prevents him from taking another step and Percival and Gwaine shuffle warily behind him. “Go.” He whispers to them and they give him a dubious look before ultimately conceding, leading their horses back through the trees at the edge of the clearing. Once they’re alone Arthur shrugs out of his armour and chain mail as best he can, letting it fall to the ground in a heap until he’s left in his tunic and breeches, grass beneath his bare feet. He just starts talking as the sun begins to set.

 

“I’m sorry about Sir Reneld, he’s been banned from council meetings. He spoke out of turn and what he said was uncalled for and untrue. Those in the outlying villages have been too long overlooked and there are very few magic users as proficient as you, you can’t take every young sorcerer under your wing and teach them about control.”

“No I cannot.” Merlin says with finality. “But not because I am but one man.”

“I don’t understand.” Arthur says sitting at the edge of the clearing.

“Magic is like fire. And I am magic itself. I cannot control it, just work with it or against it. A candle or a forest fire, it is all the same.” The ring of thorns surrounding Merlin bursts into flame and then settles into a dull flickering circle, lighting the darkening clearing.

 

They’re silent for a long while until Arthur speaks again, his voice soft, almost scared as he watches his friend sat opposite him in the middle of the clearing. “Please tell me what’s wrong Merlin.”

“You would not understand.” Merlin’s voice rumbles through the air, low and sure.

“I want to try,” Arthur whispers in earnest and shuffles “for you I’ll always try.”

 

Merlin says nothing but the conjured ring of fire surrounding him fizzles out leaving no trace of scorch marks in the earth. Arthur stands then, desperate to find a way to him. His steps meet no resistance and Merlin’s golden gaze finds his in surprise following him as he clambers over rows of roses and thorns. He falls to his knees in front of him and Merlin pitches forward into his arms, breathing hard and shaking. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t...” he says over and over into Arthur’s shoulder.

“Shh it’s okay I've got you, you’re alright” he replies.

“It’s too much all the time, I feel too much and I just want...”

“What?” Arthur asks gently, feeling the thrum of magic glance off his fingertips as they stroke the nape of Merlin’s neck, holding him close.

“I just want to let it out.” Merlin almost grits out, tears falling hot and fast.

“Tell me, show me” Arthur pleads.

 

Without hesitating Merlin kisses him, crashes their lips together desperate and aching. His hand twists its way into Arthur’s hair, grip too tight as the other clutches at the space between his shoulder blades. Arthur responds in kind, a reverent hand cupping his jaw as the other grasps his hip hard enough to bruise. Howling wind swirls around them and the air is suddenly filled with light, hundreds of flickering lights, dancing across the night sky and through the clearing like fire flies. They kiss and kiss until they can barely breathe, gasping for breath between each brush of lips.

 

Merlin grows heavy in Arthur’s arms, his own kisses growing sweet and soft and shy. Merlin’s still shaking and Arthur lays them down, letting Merlin curl around him, face pressed into the crook where his neck and shoulder meet. He doesn't realise it until his left arm falls to his side but beneath them is a shallow pile of rose petals and Arthur tries in vain to suppress a smile. “You’re such a girl Merlin.” Merlin blinks slowly at him. He shifts a little to look around, golden eyes briefly confused before he just shrugs and resumes his previous position. “I like roses, they smell nice and their petals are soft.” He mumbles slightly embarrassed. “Bit like you then.” Arthur mutters, blushing as he sweeps the pad of his thumb over the petals of Merlin’s lopsided crown. Merlin snorts “Oh that's disgusting.”

“Shut up you love it.”

“I love you.”

 

Merlin freezes. The air begins to hum again until Arthur’s thumb trails down Merlin’s temple and brushes across a cheekbone. “I love you.” He replies quietly and they lapse into silence. Arthur watching the lights dance above him until they fade and make way for the stars as Merlin drifts off to sleep for the first time in days.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin walks through the gates of Camelot wearing a cloak with the Pendragon crest billowing out behind him and a crown of roses adorning his head. His eyes are alight with gold and the people bow to him, a palpable sense power and benevolence exuding from his very being. He is magic and magic is him, making him a king in his own right. Arthur walks by his side, his hand in Merlin’s. This is their kingdom.


End file.
